Soul mates
by missingmontyoum
Summary: Cure for writer's block came in the form of a soulmate AU so don't judge too harshly. Charlie never really understood the meaning behind his soul mark until that fateful day. Will he be able to discover the true meaning before his soulmate flips out of his life forever?


**I'm not discontinuing anything, I literally wrote this to cure some of my writer's block. I got the idea for this from a Soul Eater Fanfiction and I've always rather admired the Soulmate AU. I've never seen one written for this fandom…so, here it is. Also, sorry if it is not all that great, like I said it was just a cure for something and I decided to post it because Charlet doesn't get enough attention. I also aged the characters a bit because it's kind of weird to write romance for 11 year-olds. Whatever…just enjoy the story and check out the one that I'm working on now, I won't disappoint! I swear! Okay, I'll stop talking now.**

Words are tattooed on the inside of your wrist in the minute you are born. The inked phrase served the purpose of helping one find their soul mate. Sometimes it was the first thing your soulmate would say to you, sometimes it was the phrase that you fell in love with them with. However, it was very rare that one's soul mark would describe their soulmate. Charlie only knew of one example of this oddity. His Grandpa George and his wife, Charlie's grandmother, Georgina.

Charlie remembered Grandpa George telling him the story of his soulmate, showing him his own soul phrase after. Despite being widely frowned upon, showing your soulmate mark to any one aside from your soulmate, Grandpa George was always one to break the rules. He told Charlie, placing his calloused, wrinkled hands over Charlie's, that he met his soulmate after the Vietnam War.

Young but experienced George had just been deported out of Vietnam as the war ended. His pilot helmet firmly tucked between his side and his arm. It was 90 degrees outside and his thick, bomber jacket was growing incredibly uncomfortable in the heat. He peeled the jacket off, and dropped it by his feet. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and placed it between his chapped lips, before promptly lighting it with a lighter also from his pocket. The sounds of planes entering the airport haunted him, imagining the pleas of innocent people to be saved, he trembled and took a long drag. He let the tobacco-tasting smoke loose in one heavy exhale. When the smoke cleared, George noticed that there was more people in the airport. There were pilots, like him, just getting back from the terror, there were tourists, excited to see the men of action, and there was a group of Red Cross nurses doing a check-up on the returning soldiers. A man, possibly one from George's unit, he didn't know his eyesight was getting worse, called him over to their circle. George complied, but before moving he bent to grab his jacket off of the ground. His fingers clawed at an invisible target, just barely grazing the cement. Panic set in. He looked around his area for his jacket but he couldn't seem to find it. He did a 360 spin to nearly run into a young woman. She was wearing Red Cross uniform but wasn't like any nurse he's seen before. Her long dark hair remained untied and she wore pants instead of the dress uniform. She was curious. And holding his jacket. She folded it in her arms. To say that he was startled was an understatement. She handed him his jacket and he noticed that she put a card in his pocket. Her calling card. He asked her name. She gave him a simple reply.

"I like grapes."

The inky black words on the specked inside of Grandpa George's wrist read in scroll, _likes grapes._ Charlie liked looking at the words, because his Grandpa's was even more vague than his was but, but he still found love. The words on Charlie's wrist were printed in bold, navy blue ink.

 _Blue._

He spent the longest time trying to decode his soul phrase. He looked up the possibility of blue humans and only found strange formulas for pie and pictures of painted people for Halloween. He remembered when his mother told him that he shouldn't take his soul phrase so literally. She pointed out that being blue could also mean being really sad as in depressed. But out of all of the English speakers in the world, 16% of them have depression-so he couldn't gage well. He was slowly losing hope as all of the other workers of his age at his delivery route job had already found their soulmates.

Until, that fateful day. The day that not only his but four other's lives were turned upside down.

So he stared down at the retreating figures. Augustus and his mother left the factory with the boy, anxiously picking at his chocolate-covered body. His mother blubbering over his burns and the way he still trembled. Charlie felt for him. To fill the empty voids in his life, he turned to obsession. While Augustus's was about food, Charlie's own was the very factory he now owned. And his mate mark. If Charlie squinted, he could see the soul mark, once previously covered by his long-sleeve shirt, read something similar to: "NOT TODAY SATAN." It reminded him of a certain someone.

Violet and her mother followed Augustus, the small girl who was just 5 hours ago a giant piece of fruit. She expertly flipped over the steps and bended backwards to help cheer up her mother. Charlie could tell that she herself, was trying to swallow back the feelings of self-pity and pain. Skin doesn't stretch, it tears. It burns. It hurts. He noticed little patches of red snow that trailed behind Violet. But there was nothing to be done about it now. She was prideful, and now she was blue. His soul mark was temporarily forgotten.

"Look mother!" Violet said to her mother in a half-hearted happy voice. "I'm much more flexible now!" She said flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her now bluish-purple eyes. Charlie looked up at the sad look on his Grandpa Jo's face and the indifferent, cold one on Mr. Wonka's. Charlie's mind then wandered to whether or not Mr. Wonka had met his soulmate. His thoughts were interrupted by Violet's mother's terse, venom-induced response.

"Yes, but you're blue."

Charlie stopped breathing. It was one thing to realize the true meaning of your soul mark but to hear it was completely different. His ears buzzed and his head began to feel very warm. His soulmate? His soulmate…He staggered a bit inside of the elevator but he wasn't noticed in favor of the other two exiting children. His soulmate...His mind was flooded with images of the girl. From flipping her short, platinum hair out of her face to her intense, acid green stare, he just couldn't get what she had looked like out of his mind. He recalled the tense, on-guard stature that she had carried and then the scared, pained one she adopted in the process of turning blue. He remembered her small, genuine smiles as compared to her dazzlingly false ones. His heart melted. His soulmate. His heart throbbed. His soulmate was crying for help but he didn't do anything. Nobody did. Anger boiled inside of his stomach just as Grandpa Jo put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. He probably noticed the boy's change in attitude, but Charlie ignored him. Why couldn't his soul mark like glow or something to tell him that he met his soulmate?! Maybe then he would've protected her from her own sins and saved her the pain to come. But wait, what did her soul mark show? Before he knew it, he jabbed a button on the elevator which plummeted them to the ground. Mr. Wonka looked, for once despite all of the dangers he looked on today, panicked as this was not the plan. Charlie didn't care. Grandpa Jo, clutched onto Charlie, his bony, white hands dung into his sides. It didn't matter to Charlie. All that mattered was talking to Violet.

The elevator landed directly in front of the opened gates. Blocking the 'contestants' from exiting the factory grounds. Cameras had a shutter fit, and the crowd crowed for they were finally able to see Mr. Willy Wonka, the mastermind. Mr. Wonka himself, was repeatedly pushing the up and out button, praying that it would work even though he knew that it wouldn't because it wasn't attached to the pulley system any more. Once again, Charlie showed no interest in what Mr. Wonka was doing, which really was a first for him. He pushed the glass elevator door away and exited the see-through death-trap. He took the time to notice the other children. Augustus looked, his eyes as wide as saucers at the elevator and at Charlie who had caused the thing to drop. He meekly nodded at him, making a silent apology for the way he had treated the poor boy within the velvet walls of the factory. Charlie smiled a bit. He wasn't looking for an apology, he was looking for answers. Veruca, the pile of garbage, glared at him with her nose upturned; albeit she was a bit curious as to why he was there. Mike, at that time was trying to put on his jacket but with little luck. The tall boy muttered something to the extent of 'not today Satan' after finally getting one arm in. Charlie wasn't interested in what they were doing, also. He focused on the purple girl about 5 feet away from him. Her mother stood, burning holes into the glass elevator to obliterate Mr. Wonka with her laser beam; so, she didn't notice Charlie approach her daughter.

Violet looked at him with wide eyes, full of regret and insecurity; she avoided his direct gaze. She held herself nervously, slightly slouched and her arms crossed over her chest. As if to protect her heart from any wounds she might receive. He held out his arm and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a bandage. She looked at it with slight curiosity as Charlie unraveled it to reveal his soulmate words.

 _Blue._

She read silently, her mouth slightly agape and her breath stolen. Charlie offered a hand to her. Violet read him, analyzing him in her brain. She slowly moved her own hand towards Charlie's. Charlie smiled at her shyness. This was not Violet. He planned on bringing the real Violet back. He grabbed her hand gently and looked at her for a moment before attempting to roll up the sleeve on her right hand. She hissed in pain as the cold air stabbed her burning skin. The noise brought Ms. Beaugarde's eyes back on her child. She went wide-eyed and tried to push Charlie away from Violet but Charlie stood strong. He cooed comfortingly at Violet as she continued to tremble in pain as Charlie still tried to roll up her sleeves. The woman grabbed Violet's exposed flesh to pull her away from the boy but Violet let out a small scream. She back off as Charlie came back to unravel the girl's bloodied, blue bandage and to read the words on the inside of her arm.

Although blurred slightly, Charlie was still able to read her soul mark. _Why not start a new piece?_ Charlie chuckled at the sight of his own words. He looked up at her, mirth glimmering happily in his eyes. She, however, remained unsure. That was until Charlie leaned in to place a peck on her lips.

At first startled, she stood shell-shocked, her face flushing an even darker purple. It was honestly adorable. Charlie let out a chuckle and Violet returned. She kicked his shin.

"Just because you're my soulmate doesn't mean you can kiss me without permission!" She angrily shouted at him and Charlie laughed. That was the real Violet. He approached her again, lowering the arms that he put up in defense. The brunette touched his forehead to Violet's.

"You're blue." She rolled her eyes.

"And you're an asshole."

"But that's okay, because you're still beautiful." Charlie said, closing his eyes and kissing her on the forehead. Immediately Violet threw herself into Charlie's chest, most likely to hide the fact that her blush had gotten worse and her face was looking more of the color of an eggplant than a Violet. Charlie couldn't stop himself from laughing.

Soulmates didn't half to be perfect. No in fact, they only need to be half. Because that is what the other is for. Making them perfect. Charlie realized this with the tiny giant in his arms and a huge smile on his face.


End file.
